When a Sunday roast makes everything better

Hubby has flatly refused to put the heating on.
The tip of my nose is freezing, but even this proffers no budging, or sympathy, from him whatsoever. Apparently, I must wait until October – for that is the official month when we are allowed to press the magic ‘on’ button on the boiler. I have no idea why this is, but there’s no discussing it (probably because he knows it’s stupid!).
Thus, I have two more days of suffering to endure, and then I can feel happy at home, without a freezing nose. I’ve dug out my jumpers, woolly socks and blankets and I insisted on being taken out for Sunday lunch at the pub. That cost him way more than putting the heating on, but I decided it was probably wise to keep this little bit of logic to myself. I do that a lot – it’s part of my man-management plan. Continue reading “When a Sunday roast makes everything better”